The Agony of a Stalker
by Room304
Summary: After a tragic turn of events, Greg is starting to get his life back in order. How will this change when Sara comes back into the picture? A SaraGreg story. COMPLETED 6 28 04
1. Sympathize with the Stalker

When you were here before

Couldn't look you in the eye

You're just like an angel

Your skin makes me cry

He watched her through the glass walls that surrounded his lab. She was talking to a police officer that he didn't know and instead of going up and joining their conversation, he sat in his lab, just watching her, absorbing the details as if this would be the last time he ever would ever lay his eyes upon her. The way she flung her brown hair over her shoulder. Her nervous smile. The way her tongue darted over her lips, wetting them as she talked. That phony expression of happiness that covered her face. To anyone else, she would have looked perfectly at ease, maybe even confident But he had learned about her, studying her since the first week she came to Vegas. He didn't know why he couldn't just walk up and talk to her anymore, after being shot down by her so many times in the past he guessed he couldn't find it in himself to approach her. Plus, since the explosion, his confidence had been shot. Every time he talked to her he made a complete ass of himself and right now he didn't think he could take the humiliation. He tried dating other girls, trying to take his mind off of Sara, but the entire time he was with them, he thought of her. And now, since the explosion, there were no other girls, so there was no distraction from her at all. It didn't help matters that he had to see her almost every day; in fact, it made his life hell. And she ignored him. Greg couldn't tell if was coincidental or just his imagination, but regardless of reason, she had been avoiding him. He couldn't hold in the feelings because they were consuming him, eating away at his every thought and movement. He was even starting to have dreams about her. It was almost like an obsession.

I wish I was special

Yes, so fucking special

But I'm a creep

I'm a weirdo

What the hell am I doing here

I don't belong here

          But now he had been given news that she was leaving, switching jobs and moving back to California. He was running out of time. But Greg knew he could do nothing, just sit and wait and count down the number of days they had left together. He made mental notes of almost everything she did, pictures that would help him remember her when she was gone.

          It wasn't like it was just a physical attraction he had towards Sara. He loved every thing about her; the way she handled herself in everyday situations. She had such a love for her job, and it was evident in the way she took every case so close to heart. And the way she cared so much about something that when it became threatened in any way, she asserted herself and did everything she could to stand by her cause. Greg knew she hid so much of who she really was, but in those brief moments where she was completely absorbed by a cause, she let some emotion back into her life. And he loved that about her.

I don't care if it hurts

I want to have control

I want a perfect body

I want a perfect soul

          But he destroyed everything. He worked on the case that could of given her a name for herself in the CSI world, that could have given her the promotion she wanted instead of it going to Nick. So she was leaving, she was too humiliated to stay here and face them all daily. Sara blamed it all on him.

          She was perfect. Everything she did was marred with this inconceivable beauty. And for some strange reason Greg thought he had a chance with her? Hah. He was scarred, so broken. His past was just a hopeless losing battle, leaving wounds that were incapable of healing. He knew every time he locked eyes with her that she would never be his, and yet every time she smiled that gap- toothed grin he couldn't help but hope. His hope was gone now.

I want you to notice 

When I'm not around

You're so fucking special

I wish I was special

          She didn't understand him or his emotions, feelings, or whatever the hell else you wanted to call it. She didn't understand that Greg would do anything for her, even die for her if it meant finally getting the approval that he so desperately wanted from her. But it was useless; every emotion he tried to share, every moment he spent with her, was all ruined. Because he fucked it all up. And now, the only small comfort he had in his life was leaving. Everything he had hoped for was now completely screwed. And he was finally giving up. Because there was nothing else to do.

But I'm a creep

I'm a weirdo

What the hell am I doing here

I don't belong here

A/N: This is my first csi fic so be nice. When I first heard the unedited version of this song, I knew I had to write a Greg/ Sara romance/ angst story set to the lyrics. The song is Creep by Radiohead, an absolutely beautiful song, and I feel like it just fits with Greg's personality so well. I don't know. I was planning on adding more to chapters to this story, but I can't get it to post so I don't know. Review (if it appears on the site) and let me know.

Guys, I think I met the guy who plays Greg! I saw him at JFK airport in New York but I wasn't exactly sure it was him so I yelled HEY GREG and then when he didn't turn around I realized that Greg wasn't his real name and before I could remember his real name, he walked away. Terrible ending, huh? 


	2. Seduction,Corruption,Temptation,Defeat

After what was by far the longest double shift he ever worked, Greg was finally heading home. He shoved his lab coat in his locker and switched it for an old denim jacket. As he passed Grissom's office on the way to the exit, he heard Sara in that office and it sounded as if she had been crying. "Just give me a chance!" she yelled in a voice so emotional that Greg could feel her pain. Not wanting to get caught eavesdropping on their conversation, even though he wanted to go in there and help her, he kept walking, tearing himself from that room. He made it out the building and was in his car before he realized that he really had no place to go. He could have headed home, but to do what? Sit at home and think about her all night, while pretending to get some sleep? Greg had a feeling that wouldn't be the best therapy for him right now. So he decided to head to the nearest bar, drink as much vodka as he could hold, and puke all his problems away. It was a perfect plan. And if he was lucky, he could meet a girl at this bar who was too drunk to care who he was and thoroughly forget about Sara.  
Murphy's bar, his bar of choice, was a fairly large and very crowded bar smack in downtown Vegas. Greg took a seat by himself at the end of the counter. A basketball game was on the large TV in the corner of the bar, the Suns were playing the Mavericks, who happened to be his favorite team. Nick converted him to the Dallas team two years ago. Now, when a Mavericks game aired on TV, he usually went to Warrick's or Nick's to watch it. But not tonight. Tonight he was too busy drowning in his own misery to care about spending time with the guys. He was downing his seventh shot when he looked across the bar to see her. There she was, sitting at a table by herself, smoking a cigarette and sipping a White Russian. He could tell by the look in her eye that she was ten times worse off than he was. Feeling his eyes on her, Sara looked up and smiled at him. Apparently, she was too drunk to remember that she was mad at him. So Greg walked over and pulled up a seat at her table.  
"Hey. Greg, ya know, I'm not doing so good."  
"Really?" He tried hard not to laugh, despite all his pain. Sara drunk was a hilarious sight. "What's wrong?"  
"Guy trouble, you know how it is. I hate Grissom. He's so full of himself. And ya know what?" Without waiting for Greg to answer, she continued. "Grissom is old" She cackled with delight. " Greg, he is so."  
"Old?"  
"Exactly! You know Greg? You and I have always been like this. You get me, you know?" Boy did he. "Hey Greg, its so late. I need to be heading home. I" she stood up and pointed to herself just to clarify who "I" was. "I have to work tomorrow" With that she attempted to walk towards the exit but ended up on the floor. Greg pulled her up off of the sticky floor of the bar. He couldn't let her drive home like this, so he called a cab to take them both home. He gave the taxi driver his address and was going to give him Sara's when he realized he didn't know it. He turned to ask Sara for it but she was already passed out, her head on his shoulder. He studied Sara's sleeping form during the ride home. God, she was gorgeous when she was asleep.  
  
Greg carried Sara all the way up to his apartment and was laying her on his couch when she finally woke up. She smiled up at Greg, who was using everything in his power to administer some self-control and failing miserably. His last ounce of it shattered when she leaned up from her position on the couch and kissed him. Greg tried repeating to himself over and over that he had given up on Sara, that the only reason she was doing this was because she was pissed at Grissom and too drunk to care, but before he knew it, he was trying to unbuckle her bra with one hand and open the door to his bedroom with the other, knowing that he was shattering any chance he ever had with her. He was betraying everything he stood for.  
  
I waited for you I died inside my own head And I'd die again For you  
  
I'm faded and tired Completely uninspired And I'd die again For you  
  
So kill me with the love That you won't give to me And pack the wound with salt I want to feel it bleed  
  
I'm searching for reasons To keep away the demons And I'd die again for you  
  
I wish you were near me Could feel it when you hear me say I'd die again For you  
  
So kill me with the love that you won't give to me And pack the wound with salt I want to feel it bleed  
  
You wanted me to crawl  
  
And now I'm on my knees  
  
Why's it always have to be me That's always left out to burn I'll never learn -For You, Smile Empty Soul  
  
Author's note: Thank you all for the amazing reviews! ERIC, his real name is Eric. God, that was so retarded, it's not even a hard name to remember! I definitely won't forget it now.  
  
I really want to thank you guys for all the support. You can't imagine how hard that first chapter was to write. They say write what you know, right? Anyway, this chapter was a little less angst-y and probably completely out of character, but I needed a break from the depression. The next chapter will be full of emotion and angst and tears so don't worry. Please review and tell me how you feel about this story, because I know I need to write it and some feedback would be appreciated. Thanks again. 


	3. The End of a Basketball Superstar

The bright sunbeams shined through the open windows and streamed directly onto Sara's face. As she threw up a hand to block out the sunlight, it suddenly dawned on her that the windows in her bedroom faced opposite the sun. This was not her bedroom. She sat up and immediately regretted doing so when her head started spinning. The sweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. On the bedside table was a mug of coffee and a bottle of Tylenol; obviously, both were meant for her. As she sipped the warm coffee, she couldn't help but wonder what the hell had happened the night before. She put down the now empty cup and began walking to the door. She opened the door slowly and peeked out, to see Greg standing by the counter, reading a magazine and eating a bowl of cereal. She shut the door quietly and hurried back into the room. Memories of the night before flooded her brain-her fight with Grissom, the bar, meeting up with Greg- she remembered parts of everything. Sara collapsed back onto the bed with a groan. How could this happen? She yanked the covers over her head in hopes to drown out the world. It was her fault that it happened; she had initiated it. Why did it have to be Greg? Why could she have not picked a stranger or someone she didn't know? Her thoughts were interrupted with the sound of the door opening. Someone, she assumed Greg, sat down beside her on the bed. "Sara, you've got to wake up, its almost noon", he whispered as he shook her lightly. She turned over and smiled at him; immediately, he knew something was wrong. She didn't' give him one of those unforgettable grins of hers, but instead, a very forced smile. "Greg," she sighed, and then continued with the four words no one ever wants to hear. "We need to talk."  Greg slowly nodded. He knew this was coming.

          "Last night was…an accident. We were drunk and it shouldn't have happened. I'm so sorry and I hope we can both forget about it and never mention last night to anyone." She tried to deliver this speech even thought it felt as if her head was in a blender.

          Greg looked at her strangely; she was embarrassed by what she had done. Embarrassed that it was he she slept with. Greg wanted desperately to say something, anything to make her change her mind. "Maybe it wasn't an accident. I mean, maybe it was meant to happen. Maybe this is something that we both need to make happen."

          Sara sighed and stood up, ignoring her buckling knees. "Greg, I can't talk about this now. I've got to go." And she walked out of his room, heading for the front door. He followed her out of his apartment and down to the street, catching up with her as she hailed a cab.

          "Just give me a chance!" He yelled, his voice full of emotion, as she shut the door. Now where had Sara heard that before?

          Greg sighed in defeat and walked slowly back up to his apartment. Once inside, he collapsed onto the couch. He couldn't believe the events of the night before. Everything that he had been hoping for was hopeless now. Now it wasn't a wanting of what he couldn't have, it was wanting what he had, but lost. 

He checked his watch. 6:00. He would have to face Sara in an hour. He let her know how he felt, he tried to approach her, and she didn't care, she turned away. Greg knew that Sara regarded the night before as one of the biggest mistakes of her life, and that killed him. He knew that last night would blow any chance he ever had with her, and yet he went through with it anyway, giving in to an urge that he had no control over. Always thinking that he truly cared for Sara, he now realized that if he really cared for her, then he wouldn't have let last night go down the way it did. He didn't deserve Sara; she was too perfect, too good for him. She didn't know about all the skeletons in his closet, no one did. If they ever found out they would hate him, treat him with the disgust he deserved. 

Greg walked through the lab, hiding his head in shame. He felt as if everyone he met knew what he had done, how he betrayed Sara, tossed aside every emotion, every chance. It wasn't as if he could blame it on the alcohol, he was drunk, but not that drunk. He knew it was wrong the second he touched her. She was forbidden, and he had broken the rules. 

As Catherine entered Greg's lab, she noticed the atmosphere of the room had completely changed. Instead of the usual headbanging tunes of Marilyn Manson, Black Flag, or some other various metal act, the stereo volume was uncharacteristically low and a quiet acoustic song filled the lab. Greg was silently working in a dark corner of the lab, slowly nodding his head in tune with the music. Catherine cleared her throat to catch his attention before she started speaking with him.

"Greg, Grissom and I need these samples ASAP. They're from the Hertlein home. You know, the case where their sixteen year old daughter Elizabeth was raped and murdered."

"I'm on it." Catherine sighed. She thought she had a guess as to what was wrong with Greg.

"Listen, I know everyone is a little somber around here today, but she left on her own accord and there was nothing we could do to stop her. It won't be the same around here without her, but we can't let the cases suffer because we're all down."

"What are you talking about?" For the first time since Catherine entered the lab, Greg was actually interested in what she had to say.

"Sara leaving, of course. Yesterday was her last day. Didn't you know that?"

No, no he didn't know that. Sara's final memory of him was going to be what happened last night, how he took advantage of her, lost her trust. He had no way to take back what he had done now; he was never going to see her again.

Greg couldn't even remember the rest of the shift. The one thing in his life that was worth living for was gone. He had nothing, just a wasted life. A life filled with nothing but regret and brief moments of happiness that eventually led back to regret. Greg guessed the real question was if those small, rare moments of pure joy were worth living for.

His family was gone; the closest thing he had to one was the people he worked with. He guessed Grissom would be the father figure- the father that ignored everything you did well and only remembered the times you fucked up. He was the cold, distant father who was never there, but when he was, once in awhile, he made them feel as if they belonged in the world. Because he never complimented anyone, when he showed anyone even the smallest token of gratitude, they felt like the king of the world. He thought he had everyone on the team all figured out. Catherine was the take control one, Nick was the suck up, Warrick was the one who didn't care, Sara was the overachiever, and Greg? Well, Grissom saw him as the goof off, the screw up, the one whose one sole purpose in life was to annoy the hell out of everyone else. He was the chicken, the one who lost his lunch at crime scenes.

Catherine was the mother figure- the mother that was bossy, indignant, uncaring, well, at least until her child was in some sort of emotional stress or having a problem. Then she would care. She would listen to their problems and give them suggestions on how to fix them. If they were hurt or in the hospital, then Catherine would be the one to visit them. She would nurture them and make it seem like she actually cared. But deep down, she was as cold and uncaring as Grissom.

Nick was the twin brother, the one he did everything with. The one he got drunk with on the weekends, the one he could joke around the lab with. Nick was everyone's favorite child, so caring and trustworthy, and yet so oblivious. He couldn't even see the issues his best friend was going through. He was completely blind.

Warrick let you know he didn't care, and people loved him for that one reason. He could tell it like it is and didn't have to worry about hurting anyone's feelings. He was like the favorite cousin in that aspect. He had come a long way from what he grew up in. Warrick had a lot of life experience and was the only one on the entire team who observed people. He watched and listened; he always knew what was going on.

And then there was Sara. Sara left, she deserted them all. She didn't even have the slightest inkling towards his feelings and he had tried his hardest to express them to her. She was blinder than Nick, more distant than Grissom, colder than Catherine. And yet he was in love with her.

He was trapped in the endless cycle of pain, one that he had been spiraling around in since he was still a child. He desperately needed to know that he was still a human, that his thoughts and emotions mattered. Greg hadn't felt normal in a very, very long time. He hated everything about himself. He was completely disgusted with what he had become- a lying, greedy, selfish, lonely, backstabbing, son of a bitch that had absolutely nothing to live for. He had no reason to live. So he wouldn't.
    
    I let myself fall into a lie
    
    I let my walls come down
    
    I let myself smile and feel alive
    
    I let my walls come down
    
    No matter how I try I don't know why
    
    You push so far away
    
    You wrapped your hands tight around my heart
    
    And squeezed it full of pain 
    
    With this knife I'll cut out the part of me 
    
    The part that cares for you
    
    With this knife I'll cut out the heart of me
    
    The heart that cares for you
    
    I can't believe the way you took me down
    
    I never saw the pain
    
    Coming in a million broken miles
    
    Like poison in my veins
    
    The hate and the fear
    
    The nightmares that wake me up
    
    In the tears
    
    The nightmares and the hate…

The television in the corner of his living room blared out the basketball game that was on-Dallas Mavericks against Los Angeles Lakers. Because of the thunderstorm that was hitting Vegas, the picture was fading in and out.

_"Three point shot made by Nowitzki and the Mavericks increase their lead to twelve"_

_"…Has been an unbelievable season for the Dallas All-Star…"_

_"…Could lead his team to the finals…"_

_"…League MVP…"_

He finished writing on the small, wrinkled, white sheet of paper, put the cap back on the pen he was writing with, and stuck the note in his pocket. He then pulled a steak knife out of the rack in the corner of his kitchen and began to stab himself repeatedly in the stomach. Feeling no emotion, he kept stabbing away at his own flesh as small streams of blood began to trickle down his stomach and chest, staining his hands.

_"…A collision between Nowitzki and Shaq…"_

_"Oh my God, Nowitzki's down…"_

_"…There's blood all over the court…"_

_"…Can see the bone sticking out of his leg…"_

_"…His career is ruined…"_

Fourteen stabs later, Greg removed the knife and fell to his knees.

_"…So much blood…"_

AN: THIS IS NOT THE END UNLESS YOU WANT IT TO BE. REVIEW AND LET ME KNOW! AT LEAST FIVE REVIEWS TO CONTINUE! WAS THIS CHAPTER COMPLETE BULLSHIT? LET ME KNOW! FLAMES ARE WELCOME!

Also, I want to apologize to my friend Elizabeth, for making her the murder victim in this story. Elizabeth, if you ever read this, then I'm so sorry!


	4. Short Conversations about Nothing

"Holy shit!" Nick Stokes screamed at his TV. "How the hell did this happen?" You see, Nick had been sitting at home, watching the Lakers- Mavericks game when all of a sudden, the team's star player was mauled to the ground and bleeding all over the court. His team blew it; they were out of the finals for sure. Amazingly enough, as his best friend lie dying on his kitchen floor, the biggest issue that Nick faced was how he could talk to Warrick after the tragic turn of tonight's game. Well, it can't be said that Nick didn't think about Greg, because seconds after the horrific turn of the night's basketball game, he called Greg, but when no one picked up, he became slightly worried.

          "Hey, this is Greg. Leave a message and I'll get back to ya. Eventually." 

          "Greg, it's Nick. Pick up the damn phone. I know you're there; you wouldn't miss a Lakers/Mavericks game. Greg? Greg?? Alright, fine. Since you won't answer me, I'm coming over there. You better answer the fucking door. Bye"

          Nick grabbed his keys off the counter and walked out to his Tahoe, now a little more than slightly worried. But he drove slowly, cautious as always, while Greg was bleeding out, clinging on to life.

          Although he hated to admit it, he felt kind of stupid just showing up at Greg's door because he wouldn't answer the phone, but, worst case scenario, he wouldn't be home and everything would be fine. He was hesitant in rushing up the stairs to his apartment, so he took his time. And when no one answered Greg's door, he was thoroughly humiliated. He turned to leave, but before he could even take one step in the other direction, he noticed Greg's car, parked in the lot below. Nick turned back and started banging on the door. No answer. Now that he was officially in panic and minor things like trespassing did not bother him, he tried Greg's doorknob. The door opened. Nick walked into the room slowly while shouting Greg's name.  Every time he visited Greg's, he was amazed by the cleanliness of his house and while he was searching for Greg in his living room/ kitchen he realized nothing was out of place, which eliminated his first theory of robbery. Maybe he was just jumping to conclusions, maybe Greg would walk through that door seconds later and inform Nick that he was just at the grocery store or something. But with every millisecond he spent in that apartment, his suspicions grew; he knew Greg hadn't run out to do errands. The television in the corner was playing the game, so Greg had been here to watch it.

Nick turned his head toward the kitchen; he was positive he heard something coming from that direction but the counter was blocking his view. Quietly and carefully, he tiptoed toward the kitchen. As he circled the counter top, his eyes fell upon the motionless, still form of Greg and Nick gasped at the image before him. Greg was collapsed on the hard tile floor and a pool of blood was forming around him. Stab wounds were evident on his exposed chest and a blood covered knife lay beside him. Nick took out his cell phone, his routine in these situations immediately kicked in.

"This is CSI Nick Stokes. I need an ambulance at 109 Serenity Street as soon as possible."

"Alright sir, an ambulance is on its way"

He knelt down beside Greg's lifeless form; he was so pale, he already looked dead. It was then when Nick discovered the note sticking out of his pocket. He reached down, picked it up, and slowly began to read it.

_"I just couldn't take it anymore."_

And that was it. No explanation, no apologies, nothing. 

Catherine Willows rushed down the hospital halls; the sound of her steps echoed down the hall, making Nick, who was sitting in a chair in the ICU waiting room, look up in her direction. She immediately noticed he'd been crying.  She took the chair beside him and started rubbing his back in what she thought to be a comforting way. Nick faced her, a wry grin on his face. 

"After all of the hundreds of cases I've seen, all the emergency situations I've been in, you would think it would make seeing him like that so much easier. You just never-", he stopped as his voice broke. "You never expect it to be someone you know."

Catherine was at a loss for words. "We'll find the bastard who did this to him."

"Catherine, Greg has fourteen stab wounds, fourteen self inflicted stab wounds."

"Oh, God." Composing herself a few minutes later, she continued their conversation.

"How is he?"

"He's alive-for now. The doctor said he missed puncturing most of his organs, but he nicked his left lung, causing it to collapse. Other than that, there's only the amount of blood loss to worry about."

She nodded. "I didn't even see it coming".

"I don't think anyone did".

"Have you called his family?"

"They're dead."

"Oh. Well, have you called Grissom and Warrick?"

"Yes, along with Brass"

"What about Sara?"

"Not yet."

"I think she has a right to know"

"Alright" And with that he stood up and walked to the pay phone, which was down the hall and around the corner. He wasn't sure where his cell phone was; he must have lost it in the confusion. The entire night was a blur. He couldn't fathom what would drive Greg to do this. He was Greg's best friend and he had no idea that he was having such a hard time in life that he would rather kill himself than live another day going what he went through. Nick didn't understand; he couldn't understand what would drive him to this. But he knew, that, despite how hard he might try, he could never forget seeing Greg like he saw him tonight- collapsed in a heap on the floor, pale and lifeless, with tearstains on his cheeks and stab wounds in his chest.

"Sidle"

"Sara? It's Nick."

"Hey Nick. Are you at work?"

"Um, no."

" I was actually going to call you today. I needed Greg's home number."

"Really? Why?"

"I really didn't get a chance to tell him goodbye".

 "Actually, I'm calling about Greg." Nick sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought. "Sara, there was…an accident."

"What? What happened to him?"

"He was stabbed. Fourteen times."

"By who?"

"A man by the name of Greg Sanders."

"Are you saying…?"

Catherine ran down the hall, calling out to him.

"Nick, the doctor wants to talk to us."

"Sara, I've got to go. I'll call you back later."

"But Nick-" She was cut off by the humming of the dial tone in her ear and left with so many unanswered questions.
    
    Hey you, see me, pictures crazy,
    
    All the world I've seen before me passing by,
    
    I've got, nothing, to gain, to lose,
    
    All the world I've seen before me passing by,
    
    You don't care about how I feel,
    
    I don't feel it anymore
    
    You don't care about how I feel,
    
    I don't feel it anymore.
    
    Hey you, are me, not so pretty,
    
    All the world I've seen before me passing by,
    
    Silent my voice, I've got no choice
    
    All the world I've seen before me passing by,
    
    You don't care about how I feel,
    
    I don't feel it anymore,
    
    You don't care about how I feel,
    
    I don't feel it anymore
    
    Hey you, see me, pictures crazy,
    
    All the world I've seen before me passing by,
    
    I've got, nothing, to gain, to lose,
    
    All the world I've seen before me passing by,
    
    You don't care about how I feel,
    
    I don't feel it anymore,
    
    You don't care about how I feel,
    
    I don't feel it anymore
    
    You don't care about how I feel,
    
    I don't feel it anymore,
    
    You don't care about how I feel,
    
    I don't feel it anymore
    
    I don't sleep, anymore,
    
    I don't eat, anymore,
    
    I don't live, anymore
    
    I don't feel.
    
    AN: Ok, here it is, the long author's note that I've been planning to write since day one. I am going to thank my reviewers and respond to some of the comments they made. First off, I want to thank you all for the amazing support you have given to this story. Personally, I think it sucks, but the great reviews are what keep me writing. I want to thank Scarlet Rose 4 for the best review ever! That review made me feel like I was showing the point I wanted to get across and that people could identify with my story. And next to A Bloom, who has been the first one to review every chapter so far: You brought up a point in one review about the title. I chose the agony of a stalker because Greg feels as if he is just sitting on the sidelines, watching Sara, never approaching her. He feels like he is wrong for doing so, like he's stalking her.  Ok, next is Greggo's Girl. I didn't feel as if last chapter was a "false ending" because it was my ending. I was kind of proud of the way I wrote the end of it, going in between the basketball game and Greg. That is where I wanted to end it, but I knew if I did, I would make all of you reviews upset. So I decided that if I was going to continue this story, even though I wanted to stop, I was going to have to get a lot of feedback. I am writing two other stories under a different category that I spend hours writing the chapters for and, once they are posted, get like one review for a chapter. It hurts to work so hard on something and get no feedback at all. I know your review was not a flame, but to all of you out there who want to flame me, you can. I have absolutely no self confidence- there is nothing you can say about this story that I haven't thought of before. Now to Paints The Sky: I was surprised to see your review and realize that you had suggested the next chapter to be exactly as I had written it. That was pretty cool.
    
    I also want to say that I have read a lot of stories by most of you who reviewed: A Bloom, Scarlet Rose 4, Paints the Sky, Coffee Luv, Rainbowsnstars (I love your story Will you Wait for Me, it's on my favorites list), Sandersgirl, bugsandbeauty- the list goes on. I really admire that you talented writers actually like my story.
    
    Alright, now, in closing, the song from the last chapter was With This Knife by Smile Empty Soul and the one in this chapter is ATWA by System of a Down. All of the songs used in this fic are quiet, calm songs by not necessarily calm, quiet bands. They are all great songs and I recommend you download them.
    
    PLEASE REVIEW!


	5. The Comforting Powers of Grissom

Days passed before it was definite Greg would make a full recovery. He would live, with nothing but a few scars and the lost trust from his friends to show from the experience. It wasn't just a random act, his suicide attempt. He spent hours planning how to perform it perfectly. His background was in science; it obviously wasn't an accident that he missed hitting every major organ in his body by less than an inch. The longest, most painful way for him to die was to bleed out, holding onto consciousness just long enough to mull over his wasted life. He had accomplished nothing, he hadn't made an impact on anyone, and yet, ending it like he did seemed wrong. He guessed he had his job to thank for that. Everyday he had to test DNA from victims whose lives ended unnaturally premature, victims who wanted nothing more than another chance at life. But it was the only way he knew how to deal.

          He couldn't pin the whole ordeal on Sara; his situation with her was nothing more than the final failure that sent him over the edge. His life was full of failures. On occasion, he had been known to achieve something worthwhile, though he knew that he failed a hell of a lot more times than he succeeded. Shit, he couldn't even kill himself without failing. He thought he had devised the perfect plan, sure, his plan would take longer than a bullet to the brain, but he never assumed that anyone would show up at his door and "rescue him" from the situation he had bestowed upon himself. He should have known better; things never went as planned. 

          Greg's past was overflowing with situations he could watch and couldn't find it in himself to stop. He watched as his Grandfather died of a heart attack in the middle of a crowded subway when he was six. He watched his mother and sister get murdered when he was thirteen. He watched as the son of a bitch that killed them got away. He watched Sara come in to and walk out of his life. He watched as Nick burst into his apartment less than a week before and called an ambulance, with Greg trying his hardest not to show he was awake. And lastly, he watched as Grissom entered his hospital room, ready to confront Greg as to what had happened.
    
    I feel like there is no need for conversation
    
    Some questions are better left without a reason
    
    And I would rather reveal myself than my situation
    
    Now and then I consider, my hesitation
    
    The more the light shines through me
    
    I pretend to close my eyes
    
    The more the dark consumes me
    
    I pretend I'm burning, burning bright
    
    I wonder if the things I did were just to be different
    
    To spare myself of the constant shame of my existence
    
    And I would surely redeem myself in my desperation
    
    Here and now I'll express, my situation
    
    There's nothing ever wrong but nothing's ever right
    
    Such a cruel contradiction
    
    I know I cross the lines, it's not easy to define
    
    I'm born to indecision
    
    There's always something new some path I'm supposed to choose
    
    With no particular rhyme or reason
    
    The more the light shines through me
    
    I pretend to close my eyes
    
    The more the dark consumes me
    
    I pretend I'm burning
    
    I feel like there is no need for conversation
    
                 He walked into Greg's room almost undetectably, as to not alarm the occupant. Grissom was the first familiar face to enter his room; he fought with Nick for fifteen minutes to try and keep the hotheaded Texan out. His eyes immediately fell on pale, withdrawn Greg. Taking a seat in the lumpy blue chair beside his hospital bed, Grissom began observing. The bare, white room was enough to drive anyone mad and if that didn't do it, then the almost suffocating smell of disinfectant was. He immediately remembered exactly why he hated hospitals. 
    
                 "You know, I didn't expect to wake up. I kept dreaming about being cut open on the coroner's table, with you watching on."
    
                 While Grissom wasn't sure what to expect when he entered this room, he surely wasn't expecting that and he didn't have the slightest inkling as to what to say next. After sitting in silence for what seemed like hours, Greg broke the inarticulate pause with a feeble attempt to lighten the mood.
    
                 "So I take it you came down here to tell me I'm fired"
    
                 "Well, after certain psychiatric evaluation, you are more than welcomed back." Grissom continued, either not detecting or not caring about Greg's humor. He didn't feel as if now was the time to joke around. "And if you promise me you'll never do something like this again without talking to one of us first." Grissom stood up and headed towards the exit.
    
                 "Wait! Is that all that you have to say to me?"
    
                 He turned around to face Greg. "No Greg, that is not all I have to say. I can't believe you were selfish enough to inflict all of this on the people who care about you. We've lost one team member this week already and you were trying to make it two. I thought we meant more to you than that." With that, he walked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him, upset with the way his "family" had fallen apart. Ashamed that he couldn't detect why this happened to one of his own.
    
                 Greg wasn't shocked or angry at Grissom's reaction; it actually raised Greg's spirits to find out that Grissom was a normal person with normal emotions just like the rest of us. Apparently Greg had been wrong to judge him so quickly, to judge all of them that quickly. He probably didn't really know a single member of that team because of how he underestimated them all. He realized for the first time that his actions would affect more people than just himself, that he wasn't completely alone. It would take some adjustment, but maybe, just maybe, he would make it through all of this almost unscathed. Greg wasn't quite as disappointed at his survival as he used to be.
    
                 AN: The song in this chapter was Burning Bright by Shinedown. I just got their cd for Christmas and its pretty good. Anyway, feedback of ANY KIND is appreciated (just because I'd like to know exactly how many people are reading this).
    
    On a final note, it might be awhile before I update again because we are in the process of installing a new computer and I have to transfer all of my files over to it. It might take some time.
    
    PLEASE REVIEW!!!!


	6. Remembering

I Realize that there is a formatting problem with this story, but I'm not sure how to fix it, sorry. The song in this chapter is How Long by Red Hot Chili Peppers. Sorry that it's so short, I'll try to update soon. Please Review.

"Hungry?" Lisa, a tall, blonde, thirty something, single mother who was a CSI for the San Francisco police department, asked her newest coworker. Sara had been with the team for over a year and by now she felt like family. "I'm ordering takeout from that Thai restaurant that you like so much. Was wondering if you wanted me to pick you up something."

            "Hmm?" Sara Sidle was seated at a table in the break room, studying a piece of paper that was lying on the table in front of her. 

            " I was just wondering if you wanted me to get you something to eat." Sara never looked up from the paper. She was distant, consumed by a memory from what seemed like a past life. Things were so much easier in San Francisco; the people were nicer, closer. She hardly even thought about Vegas now. But every night, in that stage where you are not quite asleep and not awake, she couldn't help but wonder about them and what she left behind. She hadn't heard a word from a single member of that team since Nick's phone call from the hospital almost a year and a half ago.

            But while going through the last of the boxes still packed in her closet, she found a picture; a picture of the group that Brass had snapped a few months after her move to Vegas. There they all were, lined up, smiling, their images frozen in that moment forever. Catherine and Nick were grinning wide, toothy grins and hamming it up for the camera. Warrick and Grissom had small subtler smiles. That was the funny thing about those two. They were so different and yet completely the same. Warrick, although he wouldn't admit it, was Grissom's protégé. Greg wasn't in the picture; he hadn't seemed like an important member of the team at that point. In fact, she didn't have any memories of Greg until about two weeks after she started working there. Although it was mean to say, he was forgettable. Was. Soon after those two weeks were up, she could never get him to leave her alone. God, he never shut up! He was always so unbelievably happy. Turns out he was never that happy because happy people don't kill themselves. Or attempt to kill themselves. She still didn't know if he had survived the "attack". She never called to find out; she wouldn't be able to live with herself if he died. He had to survive. He was Greg.

            "Earth to Sara. Are you there?" Sara looked up at her impatient coworker. "Sorry." She grinned. "I spaced out."

            "What's that?" Lisa inched her way closer to the picture. Once she got close enough, she yanked it out of Sara's hand. "It's my old team. From Vegas."

            "An eclectic group."

            "Yeah."

            "Why do you never talk about any of them?"

            "Well." Sara began, unsure of how to explain this. "We didn't end on the best of terms. That man, right there" she pointed to the image of Nick, "we were both up for the same promotion. He got it and a recommendation from him" indicating Grissom.

            "What were they like?" Lisa pressed.

            "Why do you want to know about all of this?"

            "Because you want to remember."

            She smiled. "This woman right here is Catherine Willows. You remind me a lot of her. She was so strong-willed. A single mother, like you.  She always looked out for every one of us. That's Gil Grissom, my former boss and teacher. He was very reserved and didn't get along with people that well. Maybe that's why he works with dead bodies; he doesn't get along with live people at all. That's Warrick and that's Nick. They always fought and made bets on the outcome of the cases."

            "That's not everyone, is it?"

            "There was Greg, a CSI in training and DNA analyst. He was the one who kept us all from letting that job make us suicidal. He blared music through the lab, joked around, and kept us all on out toes." Lisa looked at her pityingly.

            " You need to talk to them, Sara. You miss them."

            "I know."
    
    I heard your voice through a photograph 
    
    I thought it up and brought up the past
    
    Once you know you can never go back 
    
    I gotta take it on the other side...
    
    Centuries are what it meant to me
    
    A cemetery where I marry the sea
    
    A stranger thing that never changed my mind 
    
    I gotta take it on the other side
    
    I gotta take it on take it on...
    
    How long, how long will I slide
    
    Separate my side
    
    I don't, I don't believe its bad 
    
    Slitting my throat it's all I ever...
    
    Turn me on, take me for a hard ride 
    
    Burn me out, leave me on the other side
    
    I yell it tell it that its not my friend
    
    I tear it down, I tear it down
    
    And then it's born again
    
    How long, how long will I slide?
    
    Separate my side
    
    I don't, I don't believe its bad 
    
    Slitting my throat it's all I ever...


	7. In Flight Movies Bore the Hell out of Me

Alright, I know the last chapter was shit, and the lack of reviews proves it. I think this one is better, but what do I know? Oh, and I am not a very creative person so every name that you do not recognize from CSI, other than Lisa's, was "borrowed" from something else. Any idea where any of the names came from? The song in this chapter is Caught you Like a Cold by Vendetta Red. I bought their CD this week just so I could hear the songs that go with their amazing song lyrics. Ten bucks I spent on that CD, so you guys will be seeing a lot of their lyrics in chapters to come (It's a pretty good CD, by the way. Not my normal type of music, but I like it. DOWNLOAD THEIR SONG 'STAY HOME'. THAT WAS THE FIRST TIME A SONG EVER GAVE ME CHILLS).

Also, I have noticed that most of my old reviewers have either stopped reviewing or stopped reading this story. Did this story really start sucking so much that you guys just gave up? If so, let me know. I would really appreciate the feedback.

The next chapter will be filled with angst, depression, and anger. Wait for it (I hope it will be worth the wait.)

And Scarlet Rose 4: they correct way to end your review is Sara is acting like a stupid, sadistic, abusive, fucking whore! (Thank you, Disturbed).

"Any luck?" Lisa walked in to find Sara glaring at her computer, looking through the database and hoping to find a match to a set of fingerprints she pulled off an unregistered gun at their latest crime scene. It had been two weeks since their conversation in the break room. Sara hadn't mentioned her old team since and Lisa hadn't pushed the subject. In fact, the two had barely spoken since that day.

            " Guess not." Lisa remarked after Sara's sigh of frustration. "Well," Lisa began, while pulling a chair next to Sara's spot in front of the computer. "I think you'll be happy to know we have a suspect." Sara looked over at her questioningly. " A Mrs. Lynn White, Elizabeth Short's, a.k.a. the dead girl, best friend who packed up and moved the day after her friend was murdered."

            "Where is she now?"

            Lisa grinned. "Vegas." Sara's response was interrupted by a loud beeping noise from the computer; they had a match.

            "Wendell White, a former cop who lost his job and was arrested for assault two years ago. He's currently living in Vegas."

            "Here." Lisa handed Sara an unmarked envelope.

            "What's this?"

            "A plane ticket. Tomorrow, you and I are going to Vegas."

            "But-"

            "No buts. I've already got a sitter for Jeremy and Susie. I just got off the phone with the Las Vegas CSI supervisor, Gil Grissom. He's sending one of his team to pick us up from the airport tomorrow. You're picking me up tomorrow afternoon at one. The flight's at two thirty." She stood and walked toward the door.

            Sara looked at her boss, shocked.

            "And yes, I told him you would be coming with me."

            Sara parked directly in front of Lisa's house. Lisa had been working as a csi for some time now and had managed to use the paychecks to buy a fairly large house right in the middle of the suburbs.  Lisa kissed both of her kids goodbye, gave some last minute instructions to the babysitter, and lugged her huge suitcase to Sara's car. Before she knew it, they were on a plane, headed to Vegas.

            A sense of anxiety arose in Sara. She was dreading her arrival. It had been over a year since she had said a word to a single member of that team. She deserted them in a time when they all needed her there the most. Her departure had been followed by a series of events that even she hadn't expected. She said to herself many times before that the San Franciscan team that she worked with was more open, outspoken. They seemed closer than the Vegas CSIs; they went on trips together, had dinner at each other's houses at least twice a month, and talked to one another daily. Not the meaningless, work related, awkward conversations that she had been used to, but deep, truthful, soul bearing ones. And yet, the Vegas team seemed much more realistic. They were real people with real problems and issues that kept them from bonding with one another. Even though they didn't spend as much time getting to know one another, Sara knew that if she ever needed anything, one of them would be there to help her.

            She left Vegas in anger. She was denied the promotion she wanted, she was denied the man she wanted. Grissom was the only reason she came to Vegas, and once she realized her futile chances with him, she thought she had to leave. Once you have those feeling for a person for so long and find out they don't feel exactly the same way as you, you can't stand to be around them. But Sara hadn't realized how close she became with the other members of that team; she didn't realize how close they became with her.  Deep down, she knew she needed them. Which was why she was excited to be going back.

            Sara nudged Lisa's arm in an attempt to wake her up. "We're here". The two-hour plane ride seemed shorter than she expected. Sara helped Lisa hoist her huge bag, the one she insisted on not checking, out of the overhead compartment and they slowly exited the plane.

            "You know, that was my first plane ride."

            "Really?"

            "Yeah. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

            "That's because you were asleep for the majority of the flight." The two idly sauntered into the lobby of the airport.

            "Sara?" She heard Nick's unmistakable drawl yell out for her. He approached the two with that unforgettable grin on his face. Sara didn't have to worry about Nick being pissed off that she left. He didn't hold grudges. He gave her a quick hug.

            "Let me get those bags from you." He took the suitcases from the two women. "Whoa". His knees almost buckled under the weight of Lisa's suitcase.

            "Sorry about that. I tend to over pack."  She smiled up at him and extended her hand. "I'm Lisa Johnson." Nick matched her grin and grasped her hand. " Nick Stokes."

            The trio exited the airport and made their way through the parking lot until they reached Nick's Tahoe. Lisa quickly took the backseat and began to look over the case file, as to not interrupt the reunion of two old friends.

            Nick looked exactly the same as he did when she left, except older. Nick noticed the smug grin on her face.

            "What?"

            "You're starting to go gray." Nick blushed ever so slightly and touched his graying sideburns. "Yeah, I know. Greg loves to rub it in. He finds it hilarious." 

            She was afraid to ask but now she knew that Greg had made it through that low point in his life and was still working at the lab. Which meant she would have to face him again. Walking out on him the day she left was one of her biggest regrets. She had treated him exactly the same way Grissom treated her.

            "How is Greg?"

            Nick made a face that resembled a grimace. "He's alive and healthy, which is an accomplishment in itself. But he's not himself anymore. He's so quiet. Unless you talk to him, he probably won't even approach you. But once you start talking to him, he's almost like the same old Greg. I'm worried about him.

            "Sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you all of this. Just insecurities, I guess. You never really get over seeing him like that. But he's so much better than he was."

            "Oh, ok."

            No one spoke for the next few minutes.

            "Hey, did you know Catherine's getting married?"

            Relief washed over Sara when Nick broke the silence. "To who?"

            Nick grinned, as if he knew a secret that she could never guess.

            "Grissom." 

Sara plastered on a smile, ignoring the lump forming in her throat. "I never saw that one coming."

"Yeah, I know. No one did. It was weird; no one knew they were dating or anything until one day they announced they're getting married."

They pulled into the crime lab's parking lot. "Just leave your bags in my car. I'll take ya'll home after shift."

"No, it's alright. We'll take a cab. We don't even know what hotel we're staying at yet."

"Hotel? No, you're staying at Grissom and Catherine's place. And that's a direct order from Grissom himself."

They all hopped out of the car and walked up to the front door, which Nick held open for the two women. Lisa walked in first with Sara trailing behind her. Sara's eyes watered when she saw the familiar faces. Archie was tailing some poor intern, bugging the hell out of her. Bobby and Ecklie were discussing something and looking over papers as the briskly walked past the group. Doc Robbins limped down the hallway with an evidence bag in his hands.

Nick put a hand on her shoulder.

"Welcome Home".
    
    Hey I am sure to fall this time around
    
    And I could look you in the eye but you never show your face
    
    Something sticky in your ears turned to logic
    
    And what you reiterate is meaningless to me
    
    Save yourself because you're dying slowly
    
    Say goodnight before you ever say goodbye
    
    Tore the buttons off your coat to keep the wind out
    
    Held a candle to the sun to drown the twilight
    
    But when you bruise you never bleed no you never cry out
    
    Save yourself because you're dying slowly
    
    Say goodnight before you ever say goodbye
    
    Strong carry on carry me home
    
    Serve your flesh circuits unknown
    
    Stitches sewn to leave me alone
    
    Crane your neck till I crawl
    
    Save yourself because you're dying slowly
    
    Say goodnight before you ever say goodbye
    
    Does it make you sick?
    
    Please Review!!!


	8. Betting at Work is Illegal

            One year, 346 days, seven hours, and twenty-seven minutes. It really had been that long. Was it frightening that he counted down to the minute how long he made it? It was kind of like an ongoing, unspoken bet at work, 'Guess when Greg will snap and blow his brains out!' The person who guesses closest to the exact date without going over wins!

            They scared him, all of them. Every person he passed, even strangers on the street, scared the shit out of him because he couldn't see what they were thinking. He couldn't hear them judging him, but he knew they were. 

The worst part of it was the way his friends treated him, it was almost as if they were afraid of him. Because, let's face it, Greg had become more unpredictable than he was before. The bright clothes, weird hair, and loud music were gone and they were all left with a shadow of the guy he once was. Sure, it was a phony expression of who he was, but at least it was an expression. Now he mostly kept to himself and tried to keep quiet. He tried to act as normal as possible around the team, especially Nick. They wanted the old Greg back. Everyone regarded him differently since the accident, which was, of course, to be expected.

            At first, Grissom tried to act as caring as possible. He tried to set Greg up with a psychiatrist; he even offered to let Greg stay at his place until he got back on his feet, but after awhile he slipped back into his own life, which was to be expected. He had a marriage and a new baby to look forward to. Greg wasn't the top priority on his list anymore, which was fine with Greg. He had always felt awkward around Grissom. He felt more at ease when Grissom ignored him like before. At least that was familiar.

            Catherine hadn't really even approached him since he left the hospital. Greg knew he upset her version of her 'perfect world' where everyone she knew was completely at ease enjoying a happiness that she could never experience. He assumed that in a way, she felt as if he had betrayed her trust by almost dying on them. He was supposed to be there, he was their scapegoat. His lab used to be their haven, a safe place where they could escape the pressures of their own jobs. Now there was no haven, no distraction, and she blamed him for that.

            Nick tried his hardest to get things back to the way they were. He missed the old Greg more than anyone; he missed his best friend. Nick still invited him over for basketball games occasionally. Warrick would usually join them at about half time. For a little while, it would almost be like old times, but, like Greg, the Mavericks, the only team they both agreed to support, seemed to be on an endless losing streak since their star was injured one year, 346 days, seven hours, and forty- nine minutes ago. There were rumors about a comeback from the star, but it was nothing short of a miracle. During those two hours they spent watching the games, Nick tried to get Greg to talk to him, but Greg couldn't release all of him problems on Nick. It would kill Nick.

            Warrick had been the most comforting out of all of them. Greg could tell him anything and Warrick would look back at him with eyes filled with a certain amount of respect and calmly give him unbiased suggestions as a way to help him with his problems. Maybe it was because the two were never that close before that Greg felt at ease talking to him.

            So much had changed since the accident. Greg didn't even care anymore and his physical appearance showed that. His hair was longer, a side effect of not cutting it in over a year, and darker, because he had long since stopped dying it. His complexion was pale because he no longer went out during the day. His friends had noticed his physical changes, perhaps faster than they noticed the mental ones, but every time they looked into his sullen eyes, it was a painful reminder of the destruction he had released on everyone.

            Today, Greg received some news. He couldn't call it good news because the thought of it terrified him and calling it bad just didn't seem fitting. Sara was coming back. Only for a week, but she was still coming back. 

            They say time heals all wounds, but Greg had come to realize that that was complete bullshit. The day she left was one of the top heart-wrenching days of his life. She left shocked and probably disappointed in him, but she should have called. She never even checked to make sure he was still alive. He thought about Sara constantly still, after all that had happened, after he found out she wasn't exactly the person he hoped her to be, he couldn't help but love her. Even if it was nothing but force of habit, he still cared. Every time her name was even mentioned, his heart skipped a beat. Spending a whole week with her would be torture.

            Maybe it wasn't even Sara he was in love with. Maybe it was the image of her, the fantasy version he created. He could go on telling himself all of the reasons that he didn't need her, but it never did any good.

            "Greg, are you coming back to the crime scene with me?" Catherine huffed. She had been waiting on Greg, who had spaced out in the break room yet again, for fifteen minutes.

            "Sorry". After Sara left, instead of hunting for a new face for the lab, Grissom hired Greg to take her spot. He thought at first that this decision was a huge mistake, but after the first week, Greg proved to be as good as, if not better than, Sara. He worked well with people; he made the suspects feel comfortable. They trusted him and often confessed to him.

            In the months since the 'accident', Greg had changed. He was more depressed, bitterer. This world had disappointed him too many times and he had lost his faith in anything except himself. He knew he wouldn't try to kill himself again, if only to prove to everyone else that he could make it.

So I spilled out my guts

To look past my regrets

And I sang to the heavens

As I bled from my neck

I said

"Thanks for your patience

And all you wisdom and strength"

I said, " Thanks for all the suffering"

As I sang for the dead

They lived for the living

And you ignored every word

And we'll all grow old and die

As our pleas go unheard

So I walked through the valley

And I tried to forget

How I loved every moment 

Of the life that I left

We were all cheated, my brothers

We were all lied to my friends

No one can save us now

Not even death

So cast off what is mortal

And ignore all your dreams

They all turn to shit in the end

And you wake up in hell

Why fear the unknown

When the present's as painful

As being ignored

AN: Next chapter: Sara and Greg meet for the first time in over a year (notice how I am drawing it out, hahaha). The song in this chapter is Por Vida by Vendetta Red.

Thanks to all of my reviewers! That was the most reviews for a chapter since #3! I would really like it if I could get enough reviews for this chapter to create a fourth page of reviews. I've never gotten to the fourth page before.

One final note: I'm really sorry if the emotions/ thoughts of the characters are a little immature. I mean, I'm only sixteen. I'm not going to try and write about deep emotions and feelings that I have never felt before, because that wouldn't work.

Oops, I forgot; one more thing: The guy who was the basis for the Sara role, well, how can I put this, with the way things are going right now, don't expect a happy ending for the characters.


	9. You're Just as bad as Me

                    "Well look who it is", a very pregnant Catherine grinned as she strolled over to Nick, Sara, and Lisa. She had just come back from the crime scene with Greg and was heating up some old Chinese food in the break room when she noticed the trio approaching from down the hallway.

            "It's great to see you again!" She squealed as she hugged Sara, pure joy evident in just the expression on her face.  "I hated being the only girl on the shift!"

            "Oh, well, you don't look that lonely to me." Sara knew this statement came out a little bitter, but the sight of Catherine carrying Grissom's baby and wearing the ring that he bought for her filled Sara with remorse. Grissom had picked Catherine because, as that murderer once said, she was the "pretty one". 

            Grissom was Sara's; he had always been hers. She moved to VEGAS for him! It was like an unspoken rule-don't touch Grissom. But she left and he must have turned to Catherine for comfort. Catherine was just her replacement; at least that is what she told herself. Just to ease the pain.

            "Where is everyone?" Nick questioned Catherine.

            "Well, Grissom and Warrick were called to check out a db at a Taco Bell and I sent Greg to pick up something from Trace. I told him to meet me in the break room; I'm sure he'll be here in a few minutes.

            "You must be Lisa Johnson. I've read some of your research on bullet fragmentation; it really is amazing. We are glad to help both of you out on this case." And with that the four began an in depth discussion on the case.

            "The victim's name was Elizabeth Short, an up and coming Hollywood actress. She was found by an abandoned school building."

            Sara, who had heard all of the details of the case before, soon lost interest and began looking out into the hall, watching the people who had become strangers pass by. They all looked so different, every one of them. This past year had taken a toll on all of them; even the atmosphere of the crime lab itself had changed drastically. Her thoughts were interrupted as she saw him approaching, dressed in dark jeans and a black shirt. His hair was longer, straighter, and darker than she had ever seen it before and his huge eyes, which were always brimming with mischief and mirth, were dull, almost empty.  Down by his side he held an evidence bag with some sort of green plastic in it, which hit his leg as he walked towards them.

            He walked into the room and grabbed a seat at the table across from Sara. He sent her a heavy-hearted smile. "Welcome back". Instead of responding, she just grinned.

            "Greg Sanders?" Lisa questioned and stared at him, openmouthed. She gaped at him in shock. Greg nodded and Lisa looked at him strangely. "Why?"

            "You don't remember me? Lisa Johnson?" his eyes glinted with recognition. How could he forget her? She spent practically every night of his childhood at his house.

            She smiled. "So how have you been?"

            "Pretty good. How about you?"

            "I've been fine. I can't believe I ran into you again." And she really couldn't. The last time she had seen him, he looked like hell and was getting himself into some pretty deep trouble. She honestly never expected to see him alive again.

            " I know."

            The other three eyed the pair questioningly, wondering how they knew one another. But Lisa continued with her lecture about the White case, and no explanation was given.

            As the two were driving towards the house of Wendell and Lynn White to question the couple about their involvement in the Short murder, Sara's curiosity got the better of her and she finally asked Lisa the question that had been on her mind for the last few hours.

            "How do you know Greg?"

            " We went to school together."

            "Really?"

            "Well, I was in the same class as his sister. He was five years behind us. I was very close to his sister, to his whole family and I still never saw what was coming."

            "What?" Sara looked at Lisa strangely. Greg had never mentioned a sister to her.

            " He never mentioned it to you?" after she shook her head no, Lisa continued. "I can see how he would want to forget what had happened. His mother and sister were murdered in '88. The police said someone came in, sexually abused Mrs. Sanders and Lily, and then sliced them up with a butcher knife. Greg came home from basketball practice to find this guy mutilating their bodies and the man turned the knife on him. Greg was in the hospital for two months."

            "Oh God. Who was the guy who killed them?"

            "They never found out. Greg had to have gotten a clear view of the murderer, but he never mentioned a word to anyone. According to my knowledge, his dad went missing a week after the murder. Greg was sent into foster care. I didn't see him again for about four years. God, I still remember looking at him those four years later and being scared shitless. I saw him, lighting a cigarette while leaning on the side of an abandoned building. You know, the typical teenage rebel- ripped, faded jeans, baggy shirt, tattoos, piercings, long and greasy hair. There were rumors going around that he was hooked on heroin, but I didn't know that for sure. You don't know how relieved I am to know that he turned his life around."

            Sara was left speechless, a very rare occasion. Lisa had sugarcoated the story a bit, and even lied a little at the end. She figured there were some things about his past that Greg would like to confirm for himself. She really didn't have the right to share his past with Sara. If he had wanted her to know, he would have told her himself.

            They pulled up to the White house. Elizabeth Short's murder was a grisly one. She had been cut in half, her organs removed, and grotesquely dumped with not an ounce of blood at the scene. Before all of this, she was beaten to a pulp and a large chunck of her face, resemblying an unnatural smile that went from ear to ear, was cut into her face and her left breast had been ripped off post-mortem.

            The Whites lived in a fairly small, but nice house. Boxes were piled on the front porch. Apparently, they still hadn't unpacked from their move. Sara rapped twice on their huge oak door. There was no answer.

            After Leonard Shelby, the police officer that the two had brought with them for security reasons, cleared the house, Sara and Lisa entered. Nothing. The place was completely empty. No people, no furniture, not even a used Kleenex in the garbage can. There was absolutely nothing in the house that could prove that the Whites even lived there, at least nothing that they could see with the naked eye. It was starting to look like the pair would be in Vegas longer than expected. 

            She made him sick. As Greg was staring at her from across the break room table, a rush of emotions ran through him. It was almost as if he adored and despised her at the same time and the combination of the two emotions made him nauseous. He was falling under her spell yet again and all she had to do was smile. The situation hadn't changed at all. He was still completely under her power. He would do anything she wanted.

            She had chastened him, humiliated him too many times in the past for him to be falling for her the way that he was. He was completely dedicated to Sara, like a little lost puppy who just refuses to give up until one day all that's left of it is a stack of bones and remnants of organs that are splattered in the middle of a busy highway.

            He was silently calling out to her, begging her to leave before it became too late and she would tempt and defeat him like before. Any sane person would pity his unsound devotion towards her, and yet they would blame it all on his stupidity, because he saw what was coming and could to nothing to stop it. Or so he claimed. Greg knew that he wanted her back, wanted to go down that bleak, dismal path of self-destruction like before. He had lived almost two years without even hearing her voice. He couldn't do that again.

Truth covered in security

I can't let you smother me

I'd like to but couldn't work

Trading off and taking turns

I don't regret a thing

And I've got this friend you see

Who makes me feel and I

Wanted more than I could steal

I'll arrest myself, I'll wear a shield

I'll go out of my way to prove I still

Smell her on you

Don't tell me what I want to hear

Afraid of never knowing fear

Experience anything you need

I'll keep fighting jealousy

Until it's fucking gone

And I've got this friend you see

Who makes me feel and I

Wanted more than I could steal

I'll arrest myself, I'll wear a shield

I'll go out of my way to make you a deal

We'll make a pact to learn from who

Ever we want without new rules

We'll share what's lost and what we grew

They'll go out of their way

To prove they still

Smell her on you

AN: The song in this chapter is Lounge Act by Nirvana (the greatest band of all time!). Thanks for all of the reviews. Paints the Sky, you were asking for a little insight into the 'skeletons in Greg's closet', hopefully I sort of addressed that in this chapter. I plan on going into more detail about that later.

To the readers: I don't know how I managed it, but I have turned a fic that was supposed to be only three chapters into nine already and still have plenty more ideas for chapters to come. Keep reading and I'll keep writing!

Can anyone guess where I have gotten the names from in this story? Come on people! Wendell 'Bud' White  & Lynn White (characters in a book and a movie that was released in '97)

Leonard Shelby (a character from one of the best movies of all time)

And Elizabeth Short

Does anyone even have a guess?


	10. Whatever Happened to John Cusak?

The Agony of a Stalker Chapter Ten:  
  
Before I get started, here is a hopefully brief author's note.  
  
I'm so sorry that it has taken this long for this story to be updated, but, like I said before, I've been having computer problems and also, school has been kicking my ass. But I am taking the time to update a few things for you guys, hope you enjoy them.  
  
I started a new story, Stay Home, and posted it on here a few months ago. It actually did really well, considering that I never even saw it appear under the CSI section of this site. I worked really hard on that story; I worked on it for a few weeks and I was really proud with the results. So if you haven't read it, please do and the tell me what you think.  
  
A rhythmic clicking noise echoed ominously throughout the room as Sara tapped a pen methodically on the desk. Here she was, sitting in the guest bedroom of Grissom's house. Correction, make that Grissom and CATHERINE'S house. Although she hated more than almost anything to admit it, Sara could tell that her initial feelings about the pair were false. She could tell just by the way they stared into each other's eyes that they were going to last; this wasn't just a fling that had gotten way out of hand. It kind of hurt her in a way- now, that is a lie, it really pissed the hell out of her- that Catherine wasn't her replacement, that Grissom hadn't even needed to replace her. Sara could just walk out of his life and, in about four years, be completely erased from his memory.  
  
  
  
She couldn't blame him though. Sara was the one who decided to leave, Grissom had just been the final straw. It wasn't his fault that he happened to find his soul mate in the time Sara was gone. Soul mate- Sara mentally slapped herself for using those two words. She had come to realize that there was no such thing as a "soul mate", just two people who had problems and issues that were similar enough for the two to click and tolerate each other for years to come. She guessed Grissom just hadn't heard their click.  
  
They were waiting for her downstairs. Catherine spent all afternoon in the kitchen preparing the feast for her guests. Even now, sitting as far away from the kitchen as possible, Sara could smell the aromas leaking in from the kitchen, causing her stomach to voice its emptiness.   
  
Sara knew she couldn't take watching them sitting and eating dinner as a family, she had a feeling that if she did, she would start crying in the middle of dessert. She had accepted the two as a pair, but, even so, no one could take seeing someone they previously had feelings for with someone who wasn't themselves without feeling one of the deepest depressions of their lives. Plus, Sara had a feeling having a breakdown in the middle of dinner was not the best way to prove to Grissom that she was over him. She couldn't spend the duration of her visit here, she needed somewhere else to stay.  
  
After two rings he picked up. "Nick, it's Sara. I was wondering if Lisa and I could stay the night. You only have one room? Oh, alright I'll tell Lisa that. Warrick? Sure, I'll call him. Alright, thanks Nick. Sure, we will. Bye."  
  
She hung up and yelled for Lisa. Lisa's footsteps echoed through the long corridor as she made her way to Sara's room and stuck her head in the door.  
  
  
  
"You wanted something?"  
  
"We aren't going to stay here after all, so pack up your stuff. Nick said you could crash at his place." Sara stopped, puzzled at the small smile that appeared on Lisa's face at the mention of his name.  
  
"But where will you stay?"  
  
"I found a place, don't worry. I'm going to call a cab, so let Grissom and Catherine know that we're leaving, alright?"  
  
Minutes later the duo threw their bags into the back of the canary yellow cab. Rain came crashing out from the sky in amounts that were sure to equal a flash flood as the two hopped into the cab. The pungent odor of cheep beer and old vomit wafted over them, coating them in the stench. Sara didn't realize how much she missed Vegas cabs until that moment; there is nothing more comforting than the smell of an old Vegas taxi. The ten minute ride went by in complete silence. Before Sara knew it, they had reached Nick's.  
  
Nick was waiting on his front step when the taxi reached his house. He popped the trunk and pulled out Lisa's bag, threw some money at the driver, and sprinted alongside Lisa to the front stairwell of his apartment. The driver looked at Sara impatiently. She stared at him in oblivion for a few moments before finally realizing what he was after.  
  
  
  
"109 Serenity Street." She blurted out the address without even thinking.  
  
Nick and Greg lived only a few minutes apart. The cab driver sped through suburbia within what seemed like seconds and found its way to the slightly busier street that Greg's apartment was located on. She unlatched the door and stepped out into the rain, getting her bag and slowly making her way up the stairs to his front door. The gold number four had fallen off of the 314 that used to decorate his door, it had been duct taped back into place. She stood outside his door, realizing how cliche she looked, arriving, without calling and soaked in rain- like a scene in every movie John Cusak ever made. She knocked twice on his door and waited. When no one answered, she knocked again. Finally, the door opened to the disheveled form of Greg, dressed in sweatpants and a faded Metallica t-shirt. He beckoned her inside.  
  
"Were you sleeping?" Sara asked, as feelings of guilt overtook her.  
  
Greg protesting "No" was interrupted with a yawn. He looked down towards the suitcase she was carrying.  
  
"The spare bedroom's the last door on the left."  
  
In this darkness  
  
Troubled water  
  
Lies a flicker  
  
Of hopes fire  
  
Come to your senses  
  
Wager a risk  
  
I won't let go  
  
Waiting for this  
  
It's wonderful  
  
Reality  
  
I watch as  
  
This golden bird flies free  
  
In this Ashvault  
  
A rose garden  
  
These walls never  
  
See me just to  
  
Save me  
  
Save me  
  
AN again: The song in this chapter is Safe by Kittie. Something is wrong with the formatting, please bare with me. 


	11. Even I wouldn't do that for a job

_You believe in something  
  
But you don't believe in me  
  
Tried and tried for nothing  
  
But you couldn't see_  
  
"Greg, wait!" Grissom called for him as he slowly sauntered down the crowded hallway of the crime lab. Day shift was ending, and Greg, who had switched to days for two weeks while one of the regular CSIs was on a honeymoon, was on his way home, hoping to get some sleep to make up for the previous night's absence of it. He hadn't been able to fall asleep with Sara there, which was, of course, to be expected. Greg had spent the majority of the night watching the digital clock that sat on his bedside table, its red numbers flashing, imprinting themselves into his eyes.  
  
Grissom cornered Greg in the hallway and then led his to an empty room, which was, coincidentally, the DNA lab. The new tech was Allison, a ditzy blonde who couldn't have gotten the job if she hadn't slept with Ecklie.  
  
Greg had tried his hardest to avoid Grissom these past couple of months; every time he was alone with the guy, he gave him this whole 'I care about what happens to you and what you're going through' bullshit- filled speech. Because, when you really think about it, he didn't fucking care; none of them did. They pretended to listen and understand him but when he really needed them, before the 'accident', they ignored him. And before, when they did decide to communicate with him, they insulted him, pointed out everything that was wrong with him. Sure, at first it only stung from the shock of the harshness that his 'friends' had thrown on him, but after awhile he just didn't care anymore.  
  
Why? Was it because he had learned to ignore what they said? No, it was simply because they had insulted him, broken him down so many times that his self image, self confidence, or whatever the hell you wanted to call it, was gone. The many rejections by the one person he knew could understand him if she just took the time to listen really didn't help much either. The combination of the revilements and ostracism that he was forced to face daily broke him down until he couldn't take it anymore and, eventually, just snapped. Not snapped like going to work and gunning down everyone you knew, snapped like stabbing himself fourteen times, praying to die.  
  
This was the reason he had distanced himself from all of them after that day. They were one of the main things that had driven him to the desperation and self-loathing that made him do the things he did. And all of a sudden, they "forgot" that less than a week before they had hated him, made him hate himself, and tried to help him, to talk to him. Even after all the time that had passed, they still felt the need to show him that they were there. Maybe they were genuinely sorry for how they had acted in the past and wanted to turn over a new leaf. Or maybe that was simply just their way of trying to make themselves feel less guilty by their involvement in the whole thing. Talk about one hell of a support group.  
  
"Greg, how are you?" Grissom began, as he sat down in the rolling computer chair that used to be Greg's and took off his glasses, thoughtfully chewing on one of the arms as he spoke.  
  
Grissom noticed the rigidness in Greg's stance once he asked the question. He also noticed the false smile that Greg plastered on his face.  
  
"I'm good, what about you?" Greg's quick attempt to turn the conversation off of himself didn't go unnoticed by the all-knowing Grissom, either.  
  
"Greg - " he began in an exasperated sigh, but was cut off as Allison entered the lab, shooting the two of them death glares before kicking them out. "We'll talk about this later." He finished as the two departed, Grissom heading to his office, Greg heading home to get some much needed sleep.  
  
_Do you see in yourself?  
  
We see almost nothing  
  
We believe in what's left  
  
That must count for something  
  
We are, we are ok  
_  
Little did Greg know he hadn't been the only person in his apartment who was unable to sleep the night before.  
  
Although Greg repeated over and over that she didn't care for him, by the amount of time she spent worrying about him that night, it was blatantly obvious that she did care, just not exactly in the way he would hope. Sara was desperately worried that he would try to kill himself again. This was her first time seeing him since "the accident" and she had been horrified to discover that the Greg she had left that morning in Vegas no longer existed. She really had liked the Greg she left in Vegas and, to tell you the truth, she was glad that he was the one she woke up next to so many nights ago. And maybe that is the reason she was so worried about him that she hid all of his prescription pills, his gun, and, for some reason that really hadn't made much sense to her even at two in the morning, his shoelaces. In fact she was so frightened that he would try something that it overtook her thoughts and, for one the few times in her entire life, she was unable to concentrate on her work.  
  
_Standing outside watching yourself  
  
Decline away again  
  
Recover this time  
  
So we can save face again  
  
We're breathing  
_  
Catherine, who was shockingly not mad about Sara's abandonment of her the night before, had noticed her inability to concentrate and sent her home two hours before shift even ended. As Sara climbed the stairs to Greg's apartment, she heard loud, echoing music that appeared to be coming from his floor.  
  
Her thoughts drifted to one of the first cases she ever worked: a seventeen-year-old San Franciscan male had committed suicide in his room, waiting until every other member of his family left the house before breaking into his father's gun closet and blowing his brains out. His parents first knew something was wrong when they returned to find their entire house vibrating in tune to the song Runaway by Linkin Park, which the boy had set on repeat as his own suicide note. Sara suspected Greg was doing the same, especially when she listened to the lyrics of the song he was blaring.  
  
She took the remaining stairs two at a time, reaching his apartment door faster than most thought possible. She threw open the door, yelling his name, hoping that the repetition of it would bring him out of his suicidal tendencies. She ran to his room, not even bothering to knock as the door flew open.  
  
Her face instantly flushed as she was met by the startled face of Greg, dressed only in a ratty old pair of jeans, his hair still damp from the shower.  
  
"What the hell, Sara?!" He walked over and turned off the radio. Sara was about to utter some flustered apology before her gaze fell down to Greg's naked torso. Patches of his pale, almost translucent skin were interrupted by blasts of the sickening pink shade of scar tissue. Short thrusts and long cuts of some unknown weapon had left its mark on him. The stabs were still the rusty shade of a new scar, the long ones just white lines that stood out from the skin. Rope-like burns from the explosion twisted across his back and shoulders, a quilt of dead and living flesh.  
  
"Shit Greg" she breathed, in the strongest voice she could gather, which was still a barely audible whisper. "What the hell happened to you?"  
  
Sara was unsure as to why she asked the question, she knew the answer before the words even left her mouth. Greg sent her a look that clearly read 'Don't humor me', before rolling his eyes and throwing a shirt on. But Sara, though humiliated, had gained a certain burst of confidence by her recent embarrassment (how much worse could it get?) and could suddenly speak the questions everyone else had been afraid to ask.  
  
Her voice was cool, calm even, as she asked him the next question: "Why did you do it?"  
  
"What?" Slightly sarcastic.  
  
" You know what I'm talking about."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And why?"  
  
"What gives you the right to know?" He was defensive now, and yet still trying to look as if he didn't care.  
  
"Lisa told me about your mom and sister" Sara began tentatively.  
  
"So now you think you've got me all figured out?"  
  
"I'm working on it."  
  
"No." His shoulder bumped hers as he stalked out of the room.  
  
"What happened to you? What happened to the Greg that never let anything bring him down?" Sara spat out the words, bitterly.  
  
He turned back to face her, his eyes brimming with a hatred that Sara had never seen before. "He was stabbed to death over a year and a half ago".  
  
_No one hears you talking  
  
Or believes a word you say  
  
But you stand there laughing _

_Since you lost your place  
  
Do you see in yourself?  
  
We see almost nothing  
  
We believe in what's left  
  
That must count for something_  
  
"Why are you acting like this?" They were in the living room now, Greg trying to escape Sara, Sara following his every move.  
  
"Why won't you get off my back?" He answered her question with his own as he flung himself on his couch, trying his hardest to appear nonchalant and failing miserably. Sara sat down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, trying her hardest to be comforting and failing miserably.  
  
"Because I care about you," Her brown eyes met his and Greg's expression softened, although the resentment could not be removed from his words.  
  
"Then why did you leave?"  
  
"Greg, you know that had nothing to do with you."  
  
"Yeah? Well, it sure fucking affected me, don't you think?" He stood up and continued, not waiting for her to answer. " You know, for the three years you were in Vegas, I worshiped the ground you walked on. I would have done anything for you, and you knew that. And still you hated me, and I wasn't sure I'd ever find out why. But the day you left, I finally figured it out: I wasn't Grissom. You were so fucking devoted to one man that you didn't have a chance with that anyone who wasn't Grissom was suddenly not worthy of your time. You became so desperate for him that, all of a sudden, nothing else mattered. Your feelings for him consumed you and it was so bad that you couldn't stand to be in the same room with him anymore, which is exactly why you left.  
  
"You know, I guess in that aspect we're the same. We both wanted the one person we could never have." He paused and raised his hand, touching her cheek. "And we both blew our chances."  
  
He sad there, just looking into her watering eyes, realizing the full effect of his words for the first time. Instead of ever approaching Sara, he sat in the shadows, waiting for his opportunity to just appear when he knew it never would. And when he finally got the nerve to let her know everything, it was just a few years too late.  
  
" I think you should leave," Greg began as he stood up from the couch and started walking to his bedroom. "Go to Grissom's and put it all behind you."  
  
Sara jumped up and followed him. "Greg, please. I can't - -"  
  
"If I have to do it, then so should you." The harsh tone had reentered his voice as he walked back to his bedroom and shut the door, leaving Sara sobbing in his livingroom, alone.  
  
_Standing outside, watching yourself  
  
Decline away again  
  
Recover this time  
  
So we can save face again  
  
We're breathing  
_  
AN: The song in this chapter is Recover by Quench, a local band out of Charleston that I guarantee you guys will be hearing about in the future( I hope). If you can find their CD _'From a Whisper to a Weapon'_, then buy it - - it's cheap, but great.  
  
Alright, now that I am through shamelessly plugging a GREAT local band, I want to apologize for taking this long to update this. I just couldn't write this chapter! I guess it was writer's block, but maybe I'm just lazy. Anyway, my goal is to have this finished by May 22nd, but I don't think I've ever reached a deadline in my life.  
  
There are only a couple more chapters of this so **REVIEW** while you can!


	12. Wait and Hope

_I think I'm drowning _

_Asphyxiated _

_I want to break the spell _

_That you've created  
  
You're something beautiful _

_A contradiction _

_I want to play the game _

_I want the friction_

_You will be the death of me_

_ Bury it_

_ I won't let you bury it _

_I won't let you smother it _

_I won't let you murder it_

_ But our time is running ou__t _

_You can't push it underground _

_You can't stop it screaming out_

_ I wanted freedom _

_Proud and restricted_

_ I tried to give you up _

_But I'm addicted_

_ Now that you know I'm trapped _

_Sense of elation _

_You'd never dream of _

_Breaking this fixation_

_ You will squeeze the life out of me_

_But our time is running out _

_You can't push it underground _

_You can't stop it screaming out_

_ Yeah, you will suck the life out of me_

_ Bury it _

_I won't let you bury it _

_I won't let you smother it _

_I won't let you murder it _

_ How did it come to this?_

Greg had often heard the expression 'There's always tomorrow', but now there would officially be no tomorrow. Today was Sara's last day in the Las Vegas crime lab. Ever. It was terrible; this was the second time he expected to never see her again. Since he first found out about her return, he had been playing out these situations, scenarios in which he would say the perfect things and sweep her right off her feet. She would realize how much he cared for her and she would stay. She would put in for a transfer that day and promise to never leave his side again- - the happy ending that he knew would never come. But for that one week, he still had the opportunity to do everything that he wanted, that he thought about constantly. To have the chance at that brutally taken away was devastating. Now he couldn't even watch her across the lab like before; even that feeble routine finally ended. He couldn't see why it was affecting him this way - - he had been preparing for this day since the week began.  
  
But it was fun while it lasted, right? Nope. The last few YEARS he had been sitting there, absorbing details about her like a fucking sponge. He was embarrassed by what he had become - - nothing more than a stalker like the ones in his cases. All he ever did was wait and watch and hope for nothing. Now he had laid it all out in the open, she knew everything and that still didn't stop her from leaving.  
  
As he parked his car in the lab's parking lot, he saw her. She was briskly walking out of the building, the sun catching her hair, highlighting it as she walked, surrounding her in a golden aura. She walked like she was floating on air, that false smile plastered on her face, her posture rigid. Greg got out of his car, grabbing his coffee and downing it in one gulp while he stood by the driver's side. As he was locking his door, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He quickly turned, startled.  
  
"Sara," he breathed.  
  
And she smiled, genuinely this time. "I stayed with Grissom last night. I explained everything."  
  
"That's...great?"  
  
She nodded. "We worked everything out."  
  
A pause, then she contiuned. "And Greg? Thanks for the push."  
  
He shrugged. "It was nothing".  
  
"I'm coming back for their wedding, so it's not like I'll never see you again". She said, sensing his somber air.  
  
He smiled wryly. "Sure. You'll come back and everything will be back to normal."  
  
Noting his sarcasm, she quickly wished him goodbye and left, grabbing a taxi towards the airport. She lugged her bag through the airport. After getting stuck in airport security for what seemed like an hour, she finally met up with Lisa in the terminal.  
  
"You came back."  
  
Sara laughed. "Yeah, that was the plan. Did you think I'd stay?" and bitterly she added on the afterthought, " There's nothing there for me anymore."  
  
"You sure about that?"  
  
She looked at Lisa questioningly, about to say something before Lisa grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the gate.  
  
Once in San Francisco, they landed and traveled back to their respective homes. Once inside, Sara threw her keys on the counter, her suitcase on the floor, and collapsed onto her sofa with a sigh. Everything was back to normal, but Sara couldn't shake off the overwhelming sense of guilt that was so strong it was smothering her. She couldn't breathe. Greg's nerves were shot that day. He went through the afternoon not really paying attention to anything that was going on. He had gone through cases, collected evidence, and interviewed suspects just like any other day and quietly fell back into that pattern of normality of everyday life. It wasn't until the end of shift when it hit him, in the break room.  
  
His hands were shaking now, so badly that he couldn't even pour himself a cup of coffee. Every mistake he made throughout his life was running through his head right now, every person he let get close that ended up deserting him. He threw the coffee pot across the room, watching it shatter as it collided with the wall. The coffee left stains on the white wall, brown drips that fell like tears. Or blood.  
  
"Greg! What happened?" a panicked Grissom yelled as he saw the shards of glass that had fallen in a pile in the corner. 

"I think I'm falling". His voice shook, almost as badly as his hands, as he spoke. He stepped back and collapsed onto the wall, sliding down to a sitting position once he reached the floor. He glanced through the doorway, noticing the curious faces peering in with interest. The day that they all had been waiting for finally arrived. All of them- - Nick, Archie, Brass... everyone - - had been eagerly awaiting his breakdown; the tension in the crime lab had been asphyxiating everyone, killing them slowly. A new anger was choking Greg now, pulsing through his veins, dangerously mixing with adrenelin.  
  
Then, all of a sudden, the anger, remorse, all of it vanished. Greg got up, shouldered past his coworkers in the doorway, and pushed his way out of the hall until he finally reached the front door and the outside world. He simply got into his car and rode home in silence.  
  
After spending the night in a drunken oblivion, the next couple of days were weird. He wasn't depressed or wistful; to tell you the truth, he didn't feel ... anything. Greg felt numb, as if nothing really mattered anymore. It was over and he no longer wanted to dwell on the past, but he was certain he didn't want to move on. He decided to take a few days off work, sit at home, and remember, so hopefully he would feel again.

Sara knew deep down that her trip to Vegas shouldn't end the way it did, but what more could she do? She was in California, Greg was in Nevada - - it wasn't like they could run into each other at the local supermarket. There were hundreds of miles between them and that was too far of a distance to pursue...anything. Wasn't it? She hated that she had begun to question herself, but her discussion with Greg had unnerved her. Everything he said, whether in anger, hate, or devotion, had been true. She had let Grissom ruin her life and she didn't even realize it until Greg had thrown it in her face.  
  
That day she left for California, he had begged her to stay. The heart-wrenching yell begging for a chance, a chance she had also been denied. After all this time, she still couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if she had taken him up on his offer.

Greg hadn't said everything. He forgot to mention that he would do anything to get Sara to stay, to stay with him. He didn't say that the idea of never seeing her again had almost driven him to suicide. She was his savior, the only one who could rescue him from the looming madness of life that was threatening to destroy him. In the heat of the moment, these seemed like thoughts to keep to oneself, so he swallowed them and left them unsaid. He let her leave without knowing the whole truth, without knowing why he needed her to stay. He needed to keep some secrets hidden from her, he hadn't wanted her to know everything. And now, thoughts heavy with a sense of regret so strong it literally weighed him down, he realized she never would.

AN: The song in this chapter is Time is Running Out by Muse.  
  
I'm so sorry it took me so long to update this - - these past few weeks have been extremely hard on me, so I tried to let the angst from my life shape this chapter.  
  
There is one chapter yet to come, so please review while you still can. My goal was to reach 100 reviews with this fic, but there's no way that can happen if every person who reads this doesn't REVIEW!( I do realize this is an almost unreachable goal, but I have faith in you guys!)  
  
One final note: I'm trying to read some good classic lit. before next school year... any recommendations?  
  
Leonard Shelby- Guy Pearce, Memento (favorite movie, favorite actor)  
  
Wendell 'Bud' White and Lynn White (really Bracken)- Russel Crowe, Kim Basinger, L.A. Confidential; book by James Ellroy(favorite perverted, horny old writer)  
  
Elizabeth Short- A.K.A. The Black Dahlia- one of the oldest and most gruesome murders in Las Angeles history- unsolved since 1948(I think). 


	13. Dirk to the Rescue!

this was written without being corrected by my beta, who is currently out of town. Sorry for the mistakes

_Holy eyes, I never knew I'd beg down at your feet  
  
Hold on tight, I never knew I'd know much more than this  
  
Open sky, the wave of pain, the scent of you is bliss  
  
Hungry eyes, they stare at me  
  
I know, I know  
  
Don't Go . . ._  
  
Days, weeks, months passed. Time continued to lull on, dragging his weary and broken body through a seemingly endless cycle of nothingness. No significant events to distract him, he spent most of his time thinking about her.  
  
When Sara was still in Vegas, he knew that no matter how tragic a day was or what demons from his past had tracked him down, she would still be there. With one sweeping glance in her direction, life didn't seem as bad as it had a few seconds earlier. But now, as he thought back on the night before she left the first time, how she had acted- - her hungry sidelong glance peeking through dark lashes- - she was taunting him. It was so blatantly obvious; Sara knew she was leaving the next morning. He fell right into that "I never meant to hurt you" bullshit she had tried so hard to sell that he overlooked the undeniable.  
  
_Summertime, the taste, the scent secretes a perfume mist  
  
Console the mind, I take it in the lips of pink I kiss  
  
Lonely sky, the more you take the more that I give in  
  
Holy eyes, I never knew I know, I know  
  
Don't Go . . ._  
  
This nostalgic state that he was in happened to be occurring at 3:14; he had to get up in two hours. He knew exactly what time it was from the goddamn alarm clock beside his bed, the flashing red lights were the only light in his room. Yet again, they were the only thing he could use as an excuse for his lack of sleep and also the only distraction from his thoughts. But his recent hatred for all things electronic took over and he threw it against the wall, like the coffee pot. The device spat out all of its contents, sending gears flying across the room like a mini explosion in a last ditch effort to piss him off, mimicking the coffee pot again.  
  
_Hold on to the memory  
  
Yeah, it's all you got  
  
I know you'll be there to soak up blood lost_  
  
He could blame Sara all he wanted for what happened, he could try to force himself to hate her, but that wouldn't stop him from missing her. Since it was apparent that he would no longer be sleeping that night, Greg threw on a faded Judas Priest t-shirt and walked out of his bedroom. Before he knew it, he was in his guest room, which he would now always refer to as her room. The room still smelled like her. The grey-blue walls cornered him in, cloudy skies exploding with memories, forcing him to remember. He sat on the bed and leaned back, but quickly jolted upright when something poked him in the back. He looked back at the misshapen pillowcase and peered inside. Once he discovered the contents, he couldn't help but laugh- - steak knives and shoelaces. His negative thoughts about Sara's motives immediately vanished; even though he hated to admit it, she had cared. He hated thinking she cared- - it gave him hope.  
  
That's the thing about hope; it is often an ugly, taunting monster, rearing its deceitful head at the idea of dreams crushed. Hope keeps you waiting, waiting for an oppertunity that will never come. Because with hope, there is always another chance. You spend your time thinking about that last chance until you are sure that chance will come. Guess what, kids? It never comes. Hope is just one of the world's greatest ironies: having it reassures you for so long until it festers, like a sore, and the thought that you believed in something so minuscule makes you feel like the biggest fool. Greg was now realizing that he was a fool.  
  
_ Hold on to the memory  
  
Yeah, it's all you got  
  
I know you'll be there to soak up blood lost  
  
Blood lost, blood loss . . .  
  
I miss you  
  
_ Countdown: one hour before he left for work. He poured himself a glass of orange juice and sat at his bar, leafing through yesterday's mail. Bills, bills, "you could win ten million dollars", and more bills. But at the bottom of his stack was an old, yellowed envelope. Looking back, he would be suprised something so seemingly harmless could deliver the news it did. He glanced at the return address, if you could call it that. John Sanders, Mexico. That was a name he hadn't heard in a very, very long time. He dropped the letter, unopened, on his counter as he rinsed out his now empty glass, dried it out and set it in the cabinet. He then headed towards the shower, but glanced over his shoulder at the letter en route to the bathroom, it glared back at him menacingly.  
  
An hour later, he was completely dressed and ready for work when the temptation of the letter finally destroyed his willpower with the strength of a silent voice screaming from the past, wishing he would beg for forgiveness. Dear old Dad begging for mercy. But, no, he did not ask to be forgiven, he didn't throw excuses at Greg, he just spoke of a single term- - cancer.  
  
"Good fucking riddance," Greg quietly muttered as he went back to the letter.  
  
"Let the world know what I've done," Greg read aloud with the letter, as if speaking for his father. "Let everyone see the horror I struck on my own family.Don't let the truth die with me."  
  
After finishing it, Greg ripped it up, trying his hardest to quash the memories rising up in him. He found it ironic that the truth was the only thing his dad wouldn't let die. He swallowed the anger, the pain that the letter brought and walked out the door to work.  
  
Twelve hours later, his apartment was empty. The early morning light streamed through the windows, catching dust particles as they fell down, gathering on every surface. The sound of a key turning in the lock broke the peaceful silence as Greg entered and walked to his bedroom, his footsteps scattering the dust piles that took twelve hours to develop. Unable to sleep, he emerged from his bedroom at noon. As week-old pasta was nuking in the microwave, he collapsed onto his couch. Her voice was echoing in his head.  
  
_"I'm ordering Chinese, you want any?" Sara questioned as she picked up Greg's phone.  
  
"Uh, yeah, I'll get whatever you're getting," he looked up at her from his couch.  
  
She nodded and smiled in his direction as she placed the phone up to her ear.  
  
"Yes, I'd like two orders of the chicken and broccoli delivered to 109 Serenity Street, apartment 314. Thanks, Bye". She turned and faced him. "He said it will be about ten minutes,"she said as she walked toward her room, leaving Greg to think how perfect she was and just how much he hated broccoli.  
_  
** So, so you think you can tell **

** Heaven from Hell, **

** Blue skys from pain. **

** Can you tell a green field **

** From a cold steel rail? **

** A smile from a veil?**

** Do you think you can tell?  
  
** He turned on the TV and began flipping through the channels in search of something to drown out her voice. He stopped it on ESPN when the familiar face of former Dallas Mavericks basketball player Dirk Nowitzki, whose career had ended on that night so long ago, was staring back at him.  
  
"I knew my life was over," the man began, his German accent thick as he was describing the events that happened over two years ago. "I honestly knew the second we hit one another that my career was over. Over the next few months, I tried to do something to myself, I tried to die. But for some reason, I was spared. I was given a second chance and I was sure as hell I wasn't going to waste it. I wasn't going to be the sad, pathetic excuse for a person I had been before, I was going to take a few risks to get back what I loved. And I did." His blue eyes danced as he continued. "The doctors say I will be able to play again very, very soon."  
  
Greg turned off the TV. He felt sorry for the basketball player because he too, was believing in this false hope. If he really ever played again, he would never be as good as he was before, he would never be the same. Greg knew he sounded cynical, but it was the truth. The only way he would ever be back to normal was by a medical miracle. And we all know how often those occur.  
  
But still, the words of the German stuck with him. He had been given a second chance, and, until now, Greg had been wasting his. He knew he was meant to be with Sara; he knew they needed to work out their many issues together. They were both too screwed up to live without the other**.  
  
And did they get you to trade**

** Your heros for ghosts? **

** Hot ashes for trees? **

** Hot air for a cool breeze? **

** Cold comfort for change?**

** And did you exchange **

** A walk on part in the war **

** For a lead role in a cage?  
  
** I guess you could say he was inspired by the basketball player, however cheesy it may sound. Because Greg would wake up early one morning the next week and buy a plane ticket to San Francisco. He would take a taxi from the airport to her apartment. He would show up at her doorstep at midnight, soaked by the rain that was pouring down. Sara would answer her door, glance down at his suitcase and grin while telling him that the spare bedroom was the last door on the left. And later that night, after the two finally said everything they had kept bottled up for so long, Greg would turn on the TV and see that the Mavericks had beaten the Lakers, thanks to forty points scored by the German All Star on his first night back.  
  
Maybe hope wasn't complete bullshit after all.  
  
** How I wish, how I wish you were here.**

** We're just two lost souls**

** Swimming in a fish bowl,**

** Year after year,**

** Running over the same old ground.**

** What have we found?**

** The same old fears.**

** Wish you were here.  
  
AN:** Well, it's finally finished. I couldn't decide which song to use in this chapter, so I used both "_The Hunger_" by _the Distillers_ and "**Wish You Were Here**" by **Pink Floyd**. I hope the ending wasn't too sappy, but there are enough completely angst-y stories out there. Plus, real life has enough angst.

**For You:** Unfortunately, our ending wasn't as happy as Sara and Greg's, but it was one hell of a ride, wasn't it? I'm hoping one day you'll stumble onto this story, read it, and find out everything I felt but never said, impossible as that may be. Most of this story is straight diary entry shit right here. But, you know, as I sit here writing this, I realize that I am finally letting go. Sorry it took so long.

**Readers**: I know that, one day, I'll reach my goal, I'm not worried. Thanks for sticking with me and this story.  
  
Also, I want to thank Rainbowsnstars for beta-ing the last few chapters of this story. If only you had been doing it all along!  
  
And Krazy, you can definitely post this on your site. And, if you want, you can have full access to my stay home series, also. But not as he slowly fell apart because that's way too bad; I'm about to delete it off of this site.


End file.
